The Games We Play
by Respite88
Summary: The battle with Slytherin's basilisk ended differently. Now lost in a land of Ice and Fire with a giant snake as a companion, Harry must carve out a new life in a world where survival is key. For when you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I own nothing except a little of the plot.**

**Challenge - A Harry Potter and Game of Thrones (or A Song of Ice and Fire) Crossover**

**#1 - During the battle with the basilisk during Harry's second year at Hogwarts, he and the big snake somehow end up in Westeros (Or Essos).**

**#2 - Harry has to make friends, or something similar, with the basilisk.**

**#3 - If Harry somehow fixes the basilisk's eyes that were destroyed by Fawkes, he has to be unable to repair its ability to kill with its gaze. He would be able to curb stomp anything and anyone otherwise.**

**#Edit - And just ignore having a rooster's crow being fatal to the basilisk. Not much point having a giant killer snake if it falls over dead the first time some bird screams at it.**

**#4 - No having Harry becoming a lapdog to the Starks. He can be as friendly with them as he wants, just not creepily devoted to them.**

**#5 - When, or if, there is a War of Five Kings, Harry has to be majorly involved in one form or another.**

**#6 - No slash.**

**#7 - Everything else is up to you.**

* * *

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_," Tom Riddle hisses loudly with his arms spread wide.

Harry wheels around to look up at the statue. Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, sways on the young boy's shoulder.

Slytherin's gigantic stone face moves. Horrorstruck, Harry watches the mouth open, wider and wider, to form a huge black hole.

And something stirs inside the statue's mouth. Something slithers up from its depths.

Harry backs away until he hits the dark chamber wall and, as he shuts his eyes tight, he feels Fawkes' wing sweep his cheek as he takes flight. Harry wants to shout for the bird to not leave him, but what chance did a phoenix have against the king of serpents?

Something huge hits the stone floor of the chamber. Harry feels it shudder; he knows what is happening, he can sense it, can almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth. Then he hears Riddle's hissing voice.

"_Kill him."_

The basilisk moves toward Harry; the sound of its heavy body slithering across the dusty floor reaches his ears. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry begins to blindly run sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way; Voldemort is laughing.

Harry trips; he falls hard onto the stone and tastes blood. The serpent is barely feet from him; he can hear it coming.

There is a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then something heavy hits Harry so hard that he is smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body, he hears some more anger filled hissing and something thrashing wildly off the pillars.

He can't help it; he opens his eyes wide enough to squint at what is going on.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, has raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head is weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry trembles, ready to close his eyes if it turns, he sees what has distracted the snake.

Fawkes is soaring around its head, and the basilisk is snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers. Fawkes dives; his long golden beak sinks out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spatters the floor. The snake's tail thrashes, narrowly missing Harry, and before Harry can shut his eyes, it turns. Harry looks straight into its face and sees that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, have been punctured by the phoenix; blood is streaming to the floor, and the snake is spitting in agony.

"NO!" Harry hears Riddle screaming. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM!"

The blinded serpent sways, confused, yet still deadly. Fawkes is circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood pours from its ruined eyes.

"Help me, help me," Harry mutters wildly, "someone, anyone…"

The snake's tail whips across the floor again. Harry ducks; something soft hits his face.

The basilisk has swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Harry seizes it; it is all he has left, his only chance. He rams it onto his head and throws himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk's tail swing over him again.

"_Help me...help me,"_ Harry thinks, his eyes screwed tight under the hat. "_Please help me."_

There is no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracts, as though an invisible hand is squeezing it very tightly.

Something very hard and heavy thuds onto the top of Harry's head, almost knocking him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabs the top of the hat to pull it off and feels something long and metal beneath it.

A gleaming silver sword has appeared inside the hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs. The name Gryffindor is inscribed up the side of the blade.

"KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. SNIFF. SMELL HIM."

Harry is on his feet, ready. The basilisk's head is falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. He can see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, and venomous.

It lunges blindly; Harry dodges and it hits the chamber wall. It lunges again, and its forked tongue lashes Harry's side. He raises the sword in both his hands.

Before the basilisk attempts another strike, Fawkes swoops through the air and latches his talons to the top of the giant serpent's head. Harry hesitates only a moment before he bolts into one the tunnels off to the side of the chamber.

_Maybe I can find a way out,_ Harry thinks. _I can find another teacher to help. McGonnagall, Flitwick, even Snape._

Harry runs. He runs faster than when his Aunt Marge's dog Ripper chased him up a tree, he runs faster than the times Dudley and his friends had gone "Harry hunting", and he runs faster than he has ever run before.

What may have been seconds or may have been minutes pass before Harry realizes that the basilisk has resumed its chase. As he runs down the long damp tunnel, he can hear the echo of the serpent slithering its way closer and closer.

As his breathing grows heavy and his legs begin to grow weak, Harry spots a swirling mass of something at the end of the tunnel. The colors of blue and orange swirl together; mixing yet remaining separate in a beautiful display of light. Harry thinks the swirls look almost like a mix of ice and fire.

The basilisk closes in on Harry and he, with no other alternative available, rushes into the swirls of color with the ruby encrusted sword held high.

He sees darkness.

Fire is the first thing he feels. He feels it burning through him, coursing through his blood and veins, cleansing his very being with its warmth. It burns and burns, and burns and burns until Harry is left feeling drained and exhausted and energized and powerful all at one time.

The fire leaves him.

Then he feels the ice. He feels as it creeps its way into his bones. He feels it cool the flames left over from the fire. He feels it center on his forehead right where his scar is located, and then he feels like something in his head is shattered to bits. The ice takes away his pain though; the cold is quick to soothe.

The ice leaves him as well.

And then both the ice and the fire come back all at once. They twist and wrap around inside him until he feels as if they will tear him apart. They battle each other, hate each other, caress each other, and love each other. The powers collide over and over and over and Harry's vision goes white.

And he suddenly finds himself being thrown from wherever portal he was in and landing face first in a pile of snow.

Harry spits the frozen water out of his mouth and pushes himself up so he is sitting on his knees. He then looks around at his new surroundings with his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide. He has found himself on top of hill, which wouldn't be that unusual if the land around him wasn't covered in snow as far as his eyes can see.

He then realizes that he can see. Without his glasses!

The glasses that he has worn for the biggest part of his life lay smashed at his feet, yet his eyes can make out details with a perfection that he thinks could only be the result of magic. His robe feels slightly tighter as well, as if they have gotten smaller by a few inches…or he has grown by a few inches.

Harry observations are quickly cut short though.

There is a noise behind Harry and Slytherin's basilisk busts free from the snow. The snake is alerted to Harry's position when he lets out a startled gasp and the basilisk rears back and prepares to strike. Harry raises his sword for the attack, which strangely never comes.

"_Master_," the basilisk hisses confusedly.

The basilisk sways back and forth, as if the creature has become drunk all of a sudden. It hisses and spits and swings its head from side to side. It then lowers its head down until its level with Harry.

"_I not feel master_," the basilisk says, still sounding confused to Harry's ears.

Harry briefly wonders what the snake means when it says it can't "feel" Voldemort, but he quickly dismisses it as magic. He looks around the white wasteland that the swirling lights have brought him, and the basilisk as well.

Harry speaks Parseltongue to the basilisk for the first time, "_He's not here_."

The basilisk rears back as if slapped. "_Speaker_," the creature states. "_Speaker_."

The king of serpent's forked tongue sneaks out from the creature's massive jaws and tastes the air.

Harry begins to wonder what the basilisk is going to do now that Tom Riddle is no longer around giving it orders. Thankfully, the monster no longer seems to be concerned with attacking him. He mentally smacks himself for not trying to speak Parseltongue while he was inside the chamber. It wouldn't surprise him if Riddle was controlling it through ways besides just the language of snakes, but he wishes he at least had the wits about him to give it try.

"_Master not here_," the basilisk asks sadly.

Harry has to restrain from pointing out that he just said that, but he figures he should do his best not to annoy the thing that's over fifty foot long and has teeth longer than his arm. Big teeth, teeth that could impale him in one end and come out the other.

"_Not here_," Slytherin's pet continues.

_Even Dudley isn't this slow_, Harry thinks about the basilisk.

To Harry, the basilisk appears to become distraught. It writhers in the snows, digging up what must be years and years of the stuff until the monster has dug itself an indent in the frozen rain large enough for it to curl up into. Hissing more and more, the snake stretches its head to the top of its makeshift nest and sets it next to Harry.

Harry, in an act that he will later consider extremely stupid, gently reaches his hand over and rubs the bright green scales on the side of the basilisk's massive head. To Harry's immense relief, the snake hisses happily at the attention and pushes its skull closer, instead of eating him like Harry feared it may.

"_Basilisk master gone. Gone is master,"_ it hisses.

Harry continues to run the giant snake. "_I'm sorry,"_ he lies. He is rather happy to be as far from Voldemort as he can get right at the moment.

"_Master gone_," it repeats over and over.

The basilisk turns its head around and, even with its eyes gouged out by Fawkes, Harry gets the feeling that the creature is staring at him.

"_Needs new master_," the basilisk says. "_You's be basilisk's master."_

Harry blinks in surprise. "_Okay_," he hisses back, assuming it would be best not to argue. "_I'll be your master from now on."_

It lets out a pleased sound and lightly pushes its nose into Harry's chest. The push still has enough force to push Harry's form over into the snow though, and despite all that he has gone through he laughs. What he is actually laughing about he isn't sure, but laugh he does. His hand reaches up to pat at the basilisk and, the moment his hand touches the serpent, a jolt travels down his arm and through his body.

Harry jerks his hand back in alarm. "_What was that?_"

"_You is master now_," the basilisk hisses happily.

And Harry knows the basilisk speaks the truth, as something new has appeared inside him; a connection of sorts, like a string linking Harry to the monstrous serpent. He now realizes what the basilisk meant when it said that it could no longer feel Voldemort. He assumes that the heir of Slytherin had a connection like this as well and that the portal they came through must have somehow broken it.

Harry smiles and resumes petting the creature. He never would have thought this is how his attempt to save Ginny would turn out.

Harry eyes widen in alarm. _Ginny_, he screams in his mind. He had somehow forgotten all about Ginny.

Harry kneels down in the snow and begins digging as quickly as he can. He hopes, he prays, that maybe there's another portal that will take him back to the chamber. He thinks there should be, that there has to be. He has to save her!

He needs to save her.

He digs and digs and digs until his hands begin to freeze and he reaches the ground underneath the blanket of white. Yet there is no portal. There is no way for him to get back into the chamber. There is no way for him to save his best friend's little sister.

Harry sits back in the snow and wipes at the tears that have begun to fall down his cheeks.

"_Master_," the basilisk hisses in confusion.

"_It will be okay_," Harry says to himself more so than the snake, as Slytherin's monster has no reason to be upset that Ginny is most likely long dead and the young Voldemort free from the diary. "_It will be okay."_

Harry isn't sure how long he lays there, in the snow and leaning against the basilisk's side. He thinks about Ginny lying lifelessly in the chamber, about Ron still trapped in the collapsed tunnel with no way out, and about Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing. He thinks about what will happen when his friends discover he failed, that he couldn't save the youngest Weasley, and what will happen whenever he gets home.

If he gets home…

By the time Harry musters the strength and willpower to rise from his place of despair, the sun has risen high in the sky and his stomach has grown hungry. His bones pop as he stands and stretches out his limbs, and Harry's action causes the basilisk to stir from the slumber it had fallen into.

Harry stares out at the snowy expanse before him and wonders where in the world he is. His first thought is Antarctica, but he can clearly see some trees in the distance and he is pretty sure the ice continent doesn't have any.

Harry rubs a hand over the side of the beast he now has a magical connection to, the beast that was trying its best to murder him not long ago. "_Do you have a name_," he asks in Parseltongue.

"_Basilisk."_

_Slytherin obviously wasn't very creative_," Harry thinks. _At least it won't be hard to remember._

Harry sighs and continues to look around. Nothing he sees looks even vaguely familiar, and considering it's the beginning of summer, he figures he must be in a place pretty far north. He considers the idea that maybe he is in Iceland or Greenland, as he can't remember which is supposed to be the snowy one.

"_Do you know the way home_," Harry asks Basilisk hopefully.

The giant snake stares back at Harry with the bloodied remains of its eyes.

Harry wishes he had his wand with him. That way he could at least make a fire to keep warm until he figures a way back to Hogwarts.

"_Well we can't stay here_," he says. He glances up at the basilisk. "_Would it be okay if I ride on your back?"_

The snake's head twists around and its massive fangs hook into the back of Harry's robes and lifts him onto the monster's back.

"_Watch the teeth_," Harry says with apprehension. Getting nicked and dying from poison isn't something he wants to do.

"_I not able to harm master_," the snake hisses back.

Harry eyes that holes the snake's teeth left in his robe warily. Maybe the basilisk is right and it can't harm him, maybe the bond they now have would protect him from its poison, but it most definitely isn't something he plans to ever test. Ever.

Harry fidgets around on the snake's back, turns Gryffindor's sword around so he doesn't accidentally stab Basilisk on accident, and then looks toward the direction that he thinks is south.

"_Okay, Basilisk, let's go."_ He points forward.

The serpent zips forward at speeds much faster than Harry was expecting and he is forced to tighten his legs and attempt to get a stronger grip on its green scales. Snow is pushed out of the way and thrown to the side of the snake, and a massive trail is left on the ground that they travel.

Harry hunkers down in an effort to keep some of the cold wind out of his face and squints toward the horizon. He may not know where he is, how exactly the swirling portal got him there, or which way he should now go. But, he does know that despite the fact that he failed Ginny and his friends, he isn't going to just lie down and die in this frozen wasteland.

So he will do the same thing he has always done. The thing he did when Voldemort attacked his home and hit him with the killing curse. The thing he did during the few times his Uncle Vernon got carried away with a punishment. The thing he did when the possessed Quirrell tried to kill him for Nicholas Flamel's stone.

Survive.

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**Author's note: I would love to hear any opinions about this. So please drop a review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - I own nothing except a little of the plot.**

**I didn't plan to actually update this until summer vacation started, but I suppose I do tend to lie a lot.**

**Also, I'm ignoring the fact that a rooster's crow is fatal to a basilisk, as I find that silly and would rather the big snake not be killed by a farmer and his chickens.**

* * *

Three days. Three days since he arrived in this white wasteland and Harry has yet to see any signs of civilization. He has seen snow, mountains, trees, a handful of animals, and a lot more snow, yet not even the smallest hint of another human being anywhere near.

And they have travelled far, really far, in Harry's opinion. Basilisk is very fast; it amazes Harry, if he is honest with himself, at how speedy a creature as large and heavy as the basilisk is. It seems to him that, once he spots something at the edge of his vision, it's only a matter of minutes before the giant snake is slithering past it. And he is then left wondering how they had gotten there so quickly.

Over the last few days, Harry has found himself extremely thankful for having the killer basilisk, which he has discovered is in actuality a female, with him. And not just for the quick travel times either; if not for the serpent, he knows there is a good chance that he would have starved to death in this place that seems to be stuck in an eternal winter. The giant and loyal snake has taken it upon itself to hunt not just for its own food, but for her master's as well.

Their first night in frigid land of ice, the basilisk brought Harry back the largest wolf he had ever seen. Not that he has actually ever seen a wolf in person before, but he is pretty sure that they aren't supposed to be the size of a small horse. Gryffindor's sword cut through the poor animal's meat easily enough, but there was so much of it that Harry was only able to carry a small amount and ended up just letting Basilisk have the rest of dead animal as a snack.

The raw wolf meat has lead Harry to another problem besides his hunger though. How was he going to cook it? He has never been completely clear on the specifics, but he knows you aren't supposed to eat raw meat without actually cooking it first. He thinks it has something to do with diseases and parasites, and he doesn't want to take any chances on it.

But like Harry remembers his Uncle Vernon once saying, necessity drives innovation. And it was his hunger and necessary need not to starve that lead to him sitting on a snow covered rock with a massive grin on his face and a small ball of fire floating innocently in the center of his palm.

"Thank Merlin!" Harry laughs, slightly delirious from his hunger. Over the last few days, all he has eaten is the small amounts of berries he has managed to scrounge from the rare bush scattered about, the little bit of uncooked meat that he dared risk eating, and the handful of chocolate frogs he had found stuffed in the pockets of his school robes.

_I had much larger meals at the Dursley's house, _Harry silently says. _And my breakfast consisted of a piece of toast more often than not._

Harry doesn't hesitate to pull out a slice of the wolf meat from one of his robe pockets. It is covered in small pieces of fabric, but he doesn't care. He places the raw meat on the snow covered rock and pushes his fire ball down to his soon to be dinner.

His excitement slightly gets the better of him, as the flame in his hand jumps in size and engulfs the meat. Harry pulls his hand back quickly, revealing his food to now be blackened and crispy, and shakes his hand around until the flame goes out.

Unconcerned that the meat is now severely overcooked instead of under, Harry picks it up and bites into with a gusto that could match Ron Weasley at the Hogwarts welcoming feast. The meat is tough and feels like ash on Harry's tongue, yet the young man finds it to be one of the tastiest meals he has ever had.

He hurriedly finishes it and swallows the last bite, and then he pulls out another raw piece. Fire, once again, obediently springs to life in his hands and he hurriedly cooks the meat, although he tries his best to be a bit more careful not to burn this portion.

It too finds itself devoured and in Harry's stomach, which is feeling full for the first time in days.

No longer hungry, Harry smiles happily, lies back, and looks up at the sky. It's completely clear, right above him; not a cloud in the sky, but if he strains his eyes he can see storm clouds brewing in the distance. Hopefully he will be able to find a cave or something to stay in during the night. The day before he got caught in a snow storm and that turned out to be one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life.

It was cold; very, very, cold.

He continues to lie there, staring up at the light blue ceiling of the world.

His mind begins to drift in the same direction that it has gone since he escaped the Chamber of Secrets; it drifts toward his friends. He worries, and he questions whether Ron managed to find a way out and if someone was able to save Ginny.

The worst part is that he knows it isn't likely.

He tries to tell him that someone must have noticed they disappeared and begun looking for them. Maybe Myrtle, the ghost in the bathroom that is the entrance to the hidden chamber, told someone where they went. Then the teachers could have blasted their way inside, saved Ron and Ginny, and put a stop to the memory of Tom Riddle. Hopefully they wouldn't have too much trouble, since the great big basilisk is no longer there and fighting for Voldemort's teenage shade.

_Yes_, Harry says to himself. _Everything has probably worked out just fine._

He is sure his friends are sitting in the Gryffindor common room right this very moment, sipping pumpkin juice and waiting for him to get back to Hogwarts.

Of course, as Harry thinks about that, he knows that the chances that the opposite may have happened as well. Maybe Riddle succeeded in stealing the life from Ginny, maybe he succeeded in regaining his body, and maybe the world now has two versions of the Dark Lord Voldemort running amok.

He is beginning to feel nauseous.

_Shouldn't have eaten so fast_, he thinks with a grimace, even though he's sure the feeling in his stomach has more to do with his worry for his friends than the food.

He closes his eyes and tries his best to clear his thoughts. He knows there isn't much point in worrying over things he has little to no control over; it's much better to focus more on surviving and getting home.

He lies there for a couple more minutes before he sits up and holds his hand out in front of him. The little ball of fire immediately jumps back into light and Harry smiles at the flame. It seems that just because he doesn't have his wand, he still has his magic.

If anyone had told Harry he would someday be thankful that the Voldemort possessed Quirrell tried to kill him the year before, he would have thought them a fool. But today he is happy for it; he never would have considered trying to do wandless magic if he hadn't seen the turban clad man use it himself.

He runs his free hand over the ball of fire and marvels at how it isn't hot to the touch, yet at the same time it is clearly giving off heat and warming the air around him. He remembers Professor Flitwick saying something about how things made with your own magic tend to not cause the caster any harm, and he wishes he would have paid a bit more attention in class than he normally did.

Interestingly enough, the little piece of fire was very simple to create this time, considering he went days without any results originally. But he assumes it must be like when he learns a spell with his wand; once he manages to learn a magic the first time, he never has much trouble doing it again after.

Although, he does note that it was much harder to do the first time without a wand than with.

Harry glances to his right and notices that Basilisk is heading toward him from over the hills. The big snake has been gone hunting while at the same time searching the surrounding areas for anything of interest.

Strangely enough, the giant snake has appeared to not be bothered any at all by the cold. And, in Harry's opinion, he would say that she actually enjoys slithering around in it. He thinks it rather odd, as he was always under the impression that snakes hate cold weather and instead prefer the places that are much warmer.

He watches as the basilisk grows closer and closer and closer, ripping up ice and snow all the way. The beast gets larger and larger until it makes its way to Harry and encircles the rock which he is sitting. There is a small amount of blood and fur smeared around the snake's mouth.

"_Hey there, girl_," Harry greets as his hand reaches up and pets the creature on its nose. "_Did you have a good hunt?"_

"_Yesss_," the snake hisses as it rubs its head against Harry's hand.

"_Did you find anything?"_

"_A tall stone nest_," she replies.

"_A what_," Harry asks with confused frown.

Basilisk's head tilts to the side. "_Stone nest_."

Harry sighs. He likes having the basilisk around, but the snake isn't what could be called smart.

He motions the snake downward, grabs what few things he has, and then hops off his rock and onto the back of the basilisk. "_Take me there_."

The snake is quick to comply and she zips forward in a burst of agility. Harry lets out a yelp, as he still isn't completely comfortable riding on the speedy serpent, and holds on for dear life.

If Harry was a betting man, he would say that the basilisk enjoys scaring him whenever he rides on her back.

Over snow and hills they go, farther and faster and farther until they come to a river at least a hundred feet wide and deep enough that Harry can't see the bottom. Instead of crossing the water like Harry initially assumes, the monster makes a sharp turn westward and continues on at her breakneck speed.

It is only a handful of minutes later when Harry finally catches a glimpse of what can be nothing short of their final destination. It's a rather small stone tower sitting atop a particularly large hill. It has since long ago been abandoned, judging by it ragged and beaten appearance. The top half of the building is collapsed in onto itself and a large hole sits in the north side face.

Harry can't help but wonder how the basilisk realized the tower was even out here. He understands how the creature is able to hunt without the use of its eyes, but discovering a stone tower doesn't seem like something easily done by using only the senses of smell, hearing, and touch.

Not that Harry is complaining of course. Even with the tower, which they continue to quickly approach, being in a rather poor state, this at least means that there were other people here at one point or another. And no matter the fact that they are no longer in the area, Harry still feels some relief at the sight of it.

Basilisk slides right up next to the tower and Harry scoots himself off the side of the snake's back and onto the snowy ground. Now standing close, he glances up at the building. He was right in his thoughts about it being relatively small, as it seems to only be three or four floors high. Compared to the massiveness that make up the towers around Hogwarts', Harry finds this one to be almost tiny.

A plain wooden door sits in the arch that makes the entrance to the tower. But, before he can attempt to open it and go in to explore the first sign of civilization he has found, something catches his eye.

Harry's neck tilts back and he stares at the coat-of-arms carved into the stone, above the door's arch. It is faded a great deal due to its exposure to the elements, but that doesn't prevent Harry from recognizing it for what it is. He has seen the coat in one form or another almost every day that he has been at Hogwarts; he is staring up at the snake that represents the House of Slytherin.

_Huh_, Harry thinks. _I suppose that explains why that portal was in the Chamber of Secrets of all places._

He knows that over a thousand years ago, when Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor had their big fight, that Slytherin left Hogwarts and was never heard of again. Some said that he left to travel the world. Others said Gryffindor later hunted him down and slew the man.

Harry wonders if, perhaps, he has discovered where it is that the wizard actually disappeared to.

"_Basilisk,"_ Harry addresses the creature. "_Do you know if your first master ever came through that portal?_"

The serpent just curls her body into the snow.

Harry smiles and shakes his head at the dumb snake. "I'll just assume you don't know then."

Harry slowly pushes on the wooden door, causing the ice that has formed on the hinges to crack and break. Slowly, he manages to force it all the way open and sunlight streams into a room that has only seen darkness for centuries.

Harry steps inside and has a quick look around. It's a modest sized circular room, maybe a forth as large as the common room in Gryffindor Tower. It's bare as well; nothing is in the room aside from the dust and cold. It seems that the place has stripped of anything it may have once held.

To Harry's left is a staircase, against the wall, leading up to the second floor. Some light is coming from above, and he can easily spot a layer of snow along the top of the steps.

After his quick inspection of the first floor, Harry walks over and climbs the stone stairs. He reaches the top to find another room identical to the first, aside from the large gaping hole that is in one side of the wall. On up he goes to the third floor, which can hardly be considered a room as a result of the fact that over half the roof and walls are missing.

Harry walks to the edge of the floor and takes a look outwards. The hill the tower is on is at a rather high elevation compared to the rest of the nearby land, and Harry is able to get a very good look at his surroundings.

Maybe half a mile to the south of the tower, Harry can see the river, which he and Basilisk came across not long ago, stretch off into the distance. On past that he spots what can be nothing less than a forest, judging by the amount of dark green that is meeting his eyes.

Harry takes this as a good sign, as the fact that there is a forest close by must mean he is making some progress in his attempt to escape the endless frozen wasteland. So far the trees and plants he has seen have been few and far in between; if there's an entire forest than that may mean that the temperature is getting higher, even if only slightly.

Harry's eyes drift lower and he spots Basilisk down below him. The snake really is massive; he can't tell for sure, but it wouldn't surprise him if the snake could wrap itself all the way around the base of the tower.

He considers the worn down building which he stands upon. He still has no idea where exactly he is, or how far and which direction he should actually be going, and the idea of using the tower as a temporary home doesn't seem too bad.

He could easily send the basilisk searching until it finds something or someone, while he can stay behind and practice his magic. Or he can at least until he gets a better handle on using his power without the use of a wand. Maybe if he can teach himself the wandless equivalent of the Reparo Charm he can actually fix the tower back into a slightly better condition.

His eyes once again drift up toward the horizon, where it appears the rather large snow storm is fast approaching. Harry's best guess is that it will probably reach him within a few hours and the tower should be able to provide him with a decent enough shelter.

A chill deeper and colder than any Harry has ever felt before is in the air. It leaves a rather strong ominous feeling, and a slight shiver goes down Harry's spine. In an effort to keep warm, he creates a rather large fireball in the palm of his right hand.

_Yes_, Harry thinks, as he lifts his hand full of fire toward the approaching storm and stares into the brightly burning flame_. I do believe_ _I'll stay here for now._

* * *

**Author's note: So ya, apparently Slytherin traveled to the world of Ice and Fire at some point it seems. I admit I have most of this story planned out, but I haven't yet decided if I'll do anything else dealing with old man Salazar.  
**

**If anyone is interested in Harry's current position, he is north of the Wall, on the north side of the river that flows right above the Haunted Forest.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer - I own nothing except a little of the plot.**

**Chapter three. Next chapter is a third of the way done so far.**

* * *

Harry stares intently at the frigid waters of the river before him. He blocks out the sound of the wind blowing past his ears, he ignores the chill of the morning air that wraps around his skin, and he pays no mind to the snow squeezing its way between his bare toes.

Suddenly, there is a splash in the river and a rather large fish rockets out of the water and lands a dozen yards from where Harry stands.

The young boy grins in accomplishment as he makes his way over to retrieve his breakfast. He has been able to move things around with magic for close to a week now and his control is getting much better than it began. Even still, he occasionally loses focus and the things he tries to summon tend to actually blow up for some reason or another.

His shoes were the first casualty of his attempts.

With a grimace, Harry pulls a thick branch from his pocket that he has just for moments like this and bashes it forcefully onto the fish's skull. The poor creature stops its flailing and goes still.

"Sorry," Harry says while he picks the creature up by its tail.

The first few times he succeeded in summoning a fish he didn't have the stomach to kill the things and they ended up slowly suffocating because of it. It wasn't until he realized it was a mercy to kill them quickly that he managed to build up the nerve and finish them off himself.

He arrives back at his tower and smiles up at his handiwork. Where before it had a number of large holes exposing it to the outside, now it looks almost new except for a few missing stones that even the Reparo Charm couldn't fix. Harry found the spell to be rather easy to learn wandlessly; he thinks it was easier to learn because he was trying to replicate an actual spell he already knew instead of just forcing his magic to do what he wants.

He pushes the door open and steps inside the building. He immediately feels the drastic change in temperature. While the outside is frigid and icy, the inside is warm and lit up with a soft light from the dozen blue balls of flame floating around the room.

Harry climbs to the second floor, grabs hold of the Sword of Gryffindor from where it was lying near the top of the staircase and then has a seat on the stone floor. He takes his fish, lays it down, and slides the blade into it.

His nose wrinkles in disgust as he begins; cleaning the fish is definitely not something he enjoys. He has improved since his first try at it, but he still makes a mess every time.

As he cuts into the fish, a strange feeling of contentment washes over Harry. After spending the most of his second year at Hogwarts being treated like a pariah by most of the students, he can't help but find a small amount of solace in getting away from it all.

Here in his little tower, Harry can do as he pleases when he pleases and not worry about what others may have to say. There's no Dursleys to belittle him, no classmates to stare and whisper about him, no teachers to discipline him. It's just him and Basilisk, and he oddly finds that he is okay with that.

He knows he can't stay here forever. Eventually he will continue trying to find his way home. But for now, for now he is going to enjoy his time of solitude and focus on getting better at his magic.

Speaking of which, his magic is something that he is learning to appreciate much more than he has in the past. He never realized it, but that initial amazement he had when he first learned he was a wizard had faded. After going to Hogwarts and constantly being around magic and others with magic, he began to take that wonderful part of him for granted. But now that he is alone and forced to rely on himself more than ever before, that feeling of awe is finally starting to come back. And with it comes an all new appreciation for it.

Several minutes pass by before something through the hole in the wall that was once a window manages to catch Harry's eye.

"Smoke," he questions aloud. _Is it a forest fire?_

Harry stares toward the trees in the distance but he is unable to tell what exactly is burning. The thought that it could be a campfire enters his mind.

_That could mean people. _

He is half thrilled and half saddened by the notion.

He knows he needs to at least check it out, so he cleans off his sword, walks down the steps, and strides right back out into the cold wintery weather. Even without the added height of the tower, he can easily see the smoke rising up from the forest ahead; he's surprised he didn't notice it sooner.

By the time Harry reaches the shore of the river, he is frowning in thought as he wonders how he is going to cross it. Basilisk is out hunting; he'd rather not bother her if he doesn't need to and he doesn't particularly want to wait for the serpent either.

His frown shifts into a look of thoughtfulness as a rather crazy idea floats through his head. His toes twitch in the snow and he pulls on the magic inside him much as he has been doing since he got to this frozen land.

Hesitantly, Harry's foot steps out toward the river. Right before it makes contact with the water, he uses his magic to not create fire like he has become accustomed to, but instead he sucks what little heat is in the liquid. The water freezes solid instantly and Harry's toes meet with a sturdy sheet of ice.

Breaking out in a grin, he takes a larger and much more confident step forward. Again the river freezes around him. Again and again he does this; soon he is walking at a normal pace across while at the same time leaving a bridge of ice behind him as he goes.

It's strange how making ice with his magic feels so similar to making fire. Given how the two are practically opposites of one another, Harry would think they would be completely different. Not that he's complaing.

_Two sides of the same coin,_ _I suppose._

By the time he is halfway to the other side of the river, Harry begins to get a feeling that he is being watched. He begins to slow as he anxiously looks around.

He sees nothing but water, snow, and the forest in the distance.

He tries to push the feeling to the back of his mind, yet every step he takes just causes the feeling to grow stronger. Finally, when he makes it to the shore and steps onto dry land, he hears a loud ominous howl travelling with the wind.

Following the sound leads Harry's eyes to land on one of the massive wolves that call this winter land home. It is standing atop a small hill and is staring down towards Harry with an unnatural intensity.

This isn't the first of the giant wolves that Harry has seen so far, and he doubts it will the last. However, this one seems to behaving the oddest so far. It isn't trying to attack him or flee from him; it's just staying still and staring.

He keeps a wary eye on the animal and just continues on toward the smoke and trees. Thankfully the wolf doesn't appear to have any urge to follow him. No, instead it just continues to watch with its large yellow eyes.

Harry eventually makes it to the very edge of the forest. With a last glance back toward the animal, he steps forward and under the canopy from the massive trees above his head. Some openings are in the leafy ceiling and a small amount of light manages to leak through, but the forest remains shadowed.

Harry is calm walking through the trees, despite the rather frightening feel the place has to itself. He has come through this part of the forest many times in his short time in this frozen waste, whether it be looking for berries, wood, or something else; he is accustomed to these woods.

He weaves his way between the close together trees and hops down a small slope. He leaps over a small stream and climbs over a large jagged boulder. Seconds turn to minutes and before he knows it almost half an hour has passed since he entered the forest.

_Almost there_, he thinks.

A scent reaches Harry's nose as he draws nearer, in the direction which he saw the smoke. It's a smell that easy to recognize; it's the smell of cooking meat.

If something is being cooked, then Harry realizes that someone must be doing the cooking.

The soft murmur of voices is picked up by his ears and Harry's pace quickens. Finally he has found someone who can at least tell him where the bloody hell he is.

He slowly approaches a small clearing which is easily lightened up by the booming campfire in its center. Seated around the fire are almost a dozen people, four women and seven men. Every single one of them is dressed in think furs of varying colors and most have a weapon within arm's reach.

Steeling his nerves, Harry steps out from the cover of the forest and into the clearing. It takes a few moments, but one of the people around the fire eventually manages to notice his presence.

"Well what do we have here," a brown haired woman says with a big grin.

Harry may have felt comforted by the woman's smile if she wasn't missing most of her teeth.

One of the men stands up. "Where'd you come from, boy?" The man's voice is gruff and his beard is so think you can barely see his lips move.

"I'm lost," Harry says as he musters his Gryffindor courage. He is getting a bad feeling about these people. "I was hoping you could tell me where I am."

"Lost," one of the other women parrots his words. She has most her teeth but is missing a few of her fingers. "You're much to pretty to be one of the free folk and you don't look like a crow neither."

"What's some southern kneeler's boy doing so far north of the Wall," one of the men farthest from Harry asks as his beady eyes glance quickly around.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Harry answers back honestly. "I mean, what country is this exactly? Am I still in Scotland?

Something Harry said obviously upsets the people, and one of them jumps to his feet and grabs hold of a stone mace at his feet.

"This is no one's land but the free folk's." The man who grabbed the mace swings it around in the air. "Especially not some fucking southern lord named Scot." He angrily spits in the snow. "Let's kill the kid and be done with it," he says.

"Wait a second," Harry hurriedly tells them as he takes a step backwards. "What's wrong with you people? I just want to know how to get home."

One of the men grips a massive club and begins to approach Harry.

"Stop." Harry lifts his left hand toward the approaching man. "I said that's close enough."

As soon the club starts to be lifted in the air, a small ball of fire blasts out of Harry's hand and into the wild man. The savage jerks back with a yell of surprise as he hurriedly rips his now burning cloak off and throws it onto the ground.

The rest of the people have jumped to their feet and grabbed hold of their weapons, but none of them seem eager to make the first move.

"Look, I'm leaving. Okay, I'm leaving," Harry yells. "Just stay back."

One of the savages lifts a bow and aims at arrow toward Harry, but a flash of fear enters his eye and he raises his weapon higher.

Harry's brow furls in confusion when it appears that the group of people are no longer focused on him. Instead, it almost appears as if they are looking past him. He risks a look backwards to find Basilisk, raised tall in the air with her jaw opened wide.

She must have sensed Harry's distress through their bond and come to find him. He is rather amazed she was able to sneak up behind him without his notice though.

Harry turns back to look at the group of people with a renewed sense of confidence. With the basilisk to keep them completely frightened, maybe now they will answer his questions.

"So," Harry begins with a smug grin. He reaches up and pats the snake as it lowers its head down to his height. "How about you tell me where I am now."

The man with the bow panics and lets his arrow loose. It quickly soars through the air and impacts into the side of Basilisk's neck.

The giant snake lets out a loud hiss of anger and, before Harry has a chance to order it otherwise, it launches across the clearing and clamps its massive jaws around the man's upper body. The basilisk lifts the screaming piece of flesh up in the air and begins to sling it around until the sounds stop and it is literally ripped in half.

"_Rip_," Basilisk hisses in glee.

The other savages, along with Harry, were frozen in shock at what happened. However, they get their wits about them once the serpent swallows the biggest portion of what had been a man of their group.

With a mighty war cry, one of the men charges forward and buries his axe into the side of the basilisk. He tries to pull it back out but it has gotten stuck in the flesh and he barely has time to yell before the snake twists around and slams his body into a tree.

"_Kill_," the snake cries happily.

The woman with the missing teeth is running toward Basilisk with a long sharp spear. Before she manages to lodge it into the snake's throat like she intends, Harry throws out his hand and tries to make the woman fly backwards. Unfortunately for them both, when Harry's magic wraps around her one of the other savages comes at Harry with a sword held high. The twelve year old jumps out of the way of the strike, but this causes him to lose focus on his magic and instead of being thrown aside the woman literally explodes into hundreds of bloody pieces.

Harry raises Gryffindor's sword to block a swing from the furious man. The wild beats of a human easily overpowers him though, and the blade is effortlessly knocked out of his grip and into the snow. Harry instinctively raises his palms forward in an attempt to block the next attack and his magic reflexively lashes and blast the attacker in his chest.

Harry turns around just in time to see Basilisk finish killing the last of the savages, hissing happily as it does so.

He looks at the massacre around him and makes it less than three steps forward before he is hunkered over with his hands resting on his knees. Chunks of meat and berries splash onto the frozen ground as the awareness of the death he has just caused burns itself into his mind.

Those people, those men and women, would still be alive and happy around their campfire if Harry just stayed away. If he would have stayed in his little tower and if didn't bring death with him.

_First my parents_, Harry thinks as he wipes the mess from his mouth and the tears from his eyes. _Then Quirrell, most likely Ron and Ginny, and now these people. _

A noise, a gurgle, catches Harry's attention and he jerks around, grabs his sword from the ground, and raises it in the direction of the sound. What he finds is the man he blasted in the chest, lying on the white forest floor with a massive hole in his center.

Harry slowly approaches the obviously dying man; there is no way someone could survive such a large wound.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispers as he stares into the man's fear filled eyes.

The absolute terror directed towards Harry causes more tears to appear in the corners of the young boy's eyes. The man continues to cough blood and struggles to breath and Harry hesitantly raises his sword up to the man's neck.

_It's just like a fish_, Harry tells himself with despair. He puts a slight amount of pressure behind the blade but doesn't pierce the skin. _Better it be quick than slow._ He shakes his head and chokes back a sob. _It's a mercy._

"It's going to be okay," Harry quietly tells the dying man. He isn't sure who he is trying to convince. "I promise."

He closes his eyes and pushes the blade deep into the terrified soul's neck.

In just moments the body goes still, leaving Harry with no one but the basilisk and the dead.

* * *

**Authors Note: Question on story direction and potential spoiler below.**

**Don't read this if you don't wanna read a spoiler. So I have two outlines written out in two completely different direction I would like to do this story. One involves Harry being mistaken as Robert and Cersei's missing child (which I already have planned out to make it work). This would obviously cause it to be AU, as in the show the child died and in this one I would have it as having gone missing. The second idea would start before Robert's Rebellion and involve Harry eventually making shop at Harrenhal. Both of these would have a few plot devices that have already been used, but the direction each would end up going would be completely original to any other HP/GoT/ASoIaF story I've managed to find (and i've looked really well). So if anyone would like to leave their opinion on which I should do in their review I would love to hear your thoughts on it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - I own nothing except a little of the plot.**

**Slight bit more of Harry feeling bad for himself, but not much.**

* * *

He sees their faces whenever he closes his eyes. They will look at him in anger and accusation, and it seems that there's nothing he can do to get them out of his head.

In his mind he knows he shouldn't place all the blame for their deaths on his own shoulders. He knows that they are just as responsible, if not more so, for what happened. He knows that they could have lived if they weren't so unnaturally hostile towards him, if they didn't fire that first arrow at Basilisk, if they weren't so…wild.

But he could think of ifs all day; it does absolutely nothing to change the fact that he killed them, that he is the reason they are no have a life to live.

Harry sighs while he rests up against the side of Basilisk. It has only been a couple days, but the wounds the snake received from the fight have already healed. Unlike Harry, the snake's injuries were all on the outside. His wounds aren't the kind you can easily see, and he doubts the scars will ever completely fade.

Harry tries to force his thoughts in a different direction. He knows he needs to look toward the things that may come ahead, not at the things that have come before.

His eyes flicker ahead of him and without so much as a twitch of movement, Harry grabs hold of his magic and pushes it into the snow. The white powder begins to twist and swirl in front of him. It rises like a waterfall flowing upwards and then it finally starts to take a shape. Legs form first, followed by a body and a tail. Last comes the head and a large white mane.

Next to the snow lion comes a frozen stag, a wolf, and a crow.

_Still not quite right_, Harry thinks as he inspects his creations.

The details on the animals aren't exactly how they're supposed to be; small things aren't coming out how he imagines them in his head. For instance, the stag is missing its eyes, the lion's head is a slight bit bigger than he intended and it has cracks along its face, and the wolf has a limp leg. As for the raven, instead of missing eyes like the stag, the bird actually has three.

Harry has really thrown himself into doing whatever it takes to improve the amount of control he has over his magic. After losing his focus during the fight with the savages, he wants to make sure something like that never happens again.

Harry stretches out against Basilisk's side and watches as the frozen statues sink back down into the snow. His looks up toward the sun and watches as it is slowly blocked from view by the dark clouds rolling across the sky.

A massive guest of wind whips across the land and Harry blows out a breath of annoyance. It seems his time of enjoying the sun has come to an end. Which is a shame really, as more often than not the weather is dark and dreary here in this winter land.

He slowly rises to a stand and takes a moment to pop the kinks out of his back. He then bends down and picks up his sword. But by now, the snow is heavily falling from above and the wind is blowing so hard that it's starting to feel painful against his skin.

_The storm came in fast,_ Harry thinks while he shields his eyes. Even though the tower is a short walk away, he is unable to spot it through all of the frozen white. _This is ridiculous_.

Basilisk stirs behind him, but Harry pays the snake little mind. Instead his attention is now focused on trying to make out a strange shape through the storm. His first thought is that it's a wolf, or one of the equally large black cats that he sometimes spots roaming around. He discards that notion though, as the greyed shape appears taller, as though it may be a person.

Whatever it is though, Harry gets the feeling he will know soon. If he isn't mistaken, the figure is coming toward him.

"_Something is coming_," he unnecessarily hisses toward the basilisk, which has already raised itself up in awareness.

Harry squints his eyes, before they widen in alarm. Whatever it is isn't just coming toward him.

It's running!

Harry has only a moment to yell in alarm before the figure bursts from the snowy veil and leaps for his throat. Luckily for him though, Basilisk's shoots forward just fast enough to snatch the thing up and crush it in her powerful jaws.

After only a few moments though the giant snake spits out the creature in what appears, to Harry at least, to be disgust. And once the young boy has a look at the thing, he can't fault the basilisk for not liking the taste.

Lying on the snow is the crumbled up form of a person, or more accurately what used to be a person. What actually remains of its skin is pale and sickly, only a few handfuls of hair remains on its head, and bone is sticking out in a number of places. But the thing that sends chills down Harry's spine is its glowing blue eyes.

Harry is pretty sure he is looking at an actual zombie, which doesn't freak him out near as much as he thinks it should. He supposes that he has grown used to these things after having come into contact with three headed dogs, half dead spirits, murderous giant spiders, and an ancient killer snake. Well, that and all the horror movies Dudley liked to watch so much.

The previously unmoving zombie's arm shoots out and grabs hold of Harry's leg. The wizard lets out a yell and tumbles backwards as he kicks at the creature. His arm raises and flames burst upon the undead creature, which lets out a cry of pain and fury as Harry frees himself from its grip.

"Bloody hell." Harry drops his head back into the snow, as the monster stops its twitching and quickly turns to ash. "Bloody hell."

An unholy screech echoes through the storm and Harry hurriedly climbs to his feet. He backs up until his shoulders rest against the basilisk and he nervously looks back and forth through the snow. The screech comes again, closer this time.

Basilisk hisses loudly and dashes forward into the endless white. Harry debates on running the other way in an effort to get to his tower, but instead follows the snake when he decides his safest bet is to stick with the serpent.

He catches up to the basilisk just in time to watch it wrap around a tall lumbering giant. A giant with a decaying body and eyrie blue eyes.

Basilisk clamps down hard on the giant's skull and the massive man's head explodes in a splatter of gore. The loss of its head does little to slow the titan down though, as it keeps on fighting and manages pull the animal off its body and toss the massive snake away. It hits the ground hard with an earth shaking "thud".

Harry rushes forward to help the snake that he has grown to care for, but he is stopped as another undead person comes rushing out of the storm. It slams into the front of the boy and they both go tumbling backwards through the snow. Harry wraps his hands around the exposed bone of the creature's neck and tries to hold back the undead's savage bites. He wiggles around and manages to get his feet under the zombie's chest, and then kicks the monster up and off of him.

Before it manages to attack him again, a wave of fire swirls out of the palm of Harry's hand and engulfs the undead. The creature flails and screams as the fire burns it with an unnatural intensity.

As two more of the things come into view, Harry once again launches fire, which seems to be extremely effective against them. The beings burn and hit the ground; the snow puts out some of the flames, but the zombies burn with a ferocity that can't be easily snuffed out.

More and more of the undead emerge from the blinding weather and Harry begins to burn one after another as they continue to close in. Basilisk, which has managed to rip the giant into enough pieces that it can no longer fight, rushes over to protect Harry and starts to tear through the growing number of abominations.

Harry begins to breathe heavily as he causes a wall of fire to encircle him. He flings his arms out around him and the flames grow higher and higher until he slams the palms of his hands down and against the cold frozen floor. This in turn causes the massive wall of flames to collapse and rush out and over many of the zombies, burning them to nothing almost instantly.

Harry sways on his feet from exhaustion, and for a moment he believe he is going to pass out. More unburned groups of undead appear and form a large circle around Harry and the basilisk. The giant snake stays close to its master, protecting him and hissing angrily at the zombies.

The blue eyed corpses begins to rush forward all at once but, right before they are within reach of Harry or the snake, the come to a sudden and complete stop.

Warily, Harry glances over the undead. They now stand frozen only a few yards from him.

Strangely, the intense snow storm comes to a sudden stop and Harry becomes horrifyingly aware that instead of the few dozen undead that he thought were surrounding him, he can now see the hundreds more that were hidden from his sight.

The eyes of the each single zombie in the undead horde shines bright and, all as one, they take a step back, and then another, and another. They then go back to standing as still as statues.

Basilisk hisses again, which causes Harry to glance up at her and see that her head is turned toward something behind them. He cautiously walks around the side of snake, while keeping a hesitant eye on the unmoving zombies as he does, and comes into view of some kind of creature approaching him on an undead horse.

The man, if it can be called that, has skin as pale as the moon and eyes as blue as sapphires. It wears blueish armor that shifts in the light, and a sword made of what can only be ice hangs from its side. Its ears have a slight pointed shape to them, almost elfin in appearance, and atop its head sits a small wisp of snow white hair.

The undead horde slowly parts before the approaching being, the demon made of ice, as it stares intently up at the viciously hissing basilisk. Once it reaches the edge of the zombies encircling Harry, the being's horse comes to a stop and its focus shifts away from the giant snake and instead hones in on Harry.

Harry summons up every last ounce of his Gryffindor bravery. "What do you want," he asks the demon.

The ice creature doesn't answer and instead glances over in the direction of Harry's tower. It then looks back up at the basilisk and then back down to Harry.

The creature is frowning now, as if Harry and the basilisk is a puzzle that it can't quite figure out.

No words are exchanged. No movements are made. Instead, Harry and the cold thing continue to stare at one another for what could have been seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours.

The mounted man breaks eye contact with Harry and spares another glance up at the basilisk. It tilts its head slightly to the side and appears to have come to some kind of decision.

Without a sound, the demon turns his undead horse around and begins riding away. The horde of zombies surrounding Harry regain their movement and obediently start to follow after it.

Harry watches in silence as the monsters shuffle their way past him and Basilisk, some coming close enough that he could reach out and touch them if there was a desire to. If he didn't know any better he would say that the undead aren't even aware of his presence, but he sure that they are. Or at least, he knows the creature that is leading, or controlling, them is.

He has to place a comforting hand on the side of the basilisk, as she is still spitting and hissing at the creatures and he doesn't want her to attack. If the snake decided to do that, they might just change their mind about leaving without ripping him limb from limb. That's happens to be something he would much rather avoid if at all possible.

He isn't sure how long he stays standing there. He just knows he doesn't move from his spot until the undead horde is over the hill and way out of sight. And even then, he keeps on watching to make sure they don't suddenly come running back.

Basilisk lowers her head and nudges Harry in the side with her nose.

"_I don't know about you_," he hisses out while rubbing the snake's snout. He continues to stare in the direction the zombies disappeared in. "_But I think we've stayed in this place long enough_."

The basilisk happily hisses its agreement.

* * *

**XXXX**

* * *

_Where am I?_ Harry looks around curiously.

The last thing he remembers is laying down under a large white tree with blood red leaves and a face carved into the bark of it. He felt a sense of comfort from the tree, and the way his magic hummed while being near it helped him decide that it was as good a place as any to rest. And rest is something he needs, as for a day and a night, Harry and Basilisk have been travelling south as quickly as possible in an effort to put as much distance as they can between them and the undead.

Now though, now he is no longer lying under the tree's domain. Instead he finds himself standing atop a small set of steps inside of some kind of massive hall. He cautiously walks down the steps and toward the center of the room. His head twists side to side and up and down as he tries to take everything around him in at once.

A large crack of thunder echoes and Harry looks upwards. Much of the rooms ceiling is destroyed and he can easily see the storm clouds building high in the sky.

The floor is covered by a light layer of snow and the large fire pits wrapped around the room's equally large columns appear to have not been used in years.

And to Harry left is a throne, a throne as tall as the ceiling and wide enough to seat a giant. A throne made of thousands of swords stacked and melted together in an uneven mess of sharp pointy blades. Yet despite the throne's inherent ugliness, the chair inspires a certain amount of awe and power that is almost impossible to explain.

"You aren't meant to be here," a voice says from behind Harry.

The young wizard turns to find a tall man with pure white skin, a single red eye and an empty socket, and long white hair. A splotchy red mark runs from his throat up to his cheek, and Harry finds it looks slightly like a raven.

Strapped to the albino's side is a long sword and upon his back a longbow. He is garbed in grey and black colors and a white dragon spewing red flames adorns his front.

Harry silently disagrees with the stranger words. "I'm not even sure where here is," Harry answers, as he turns back to look up at the massive throne.

He's feeling calm, calmer than he has ever been before. And, for some reason he cannot explain, Harry feels that this is exactly where he belongs.

"You've changed things." The stranger moves forward to stand next to Harry. "You're very presence in this world has caused strings to tangle and even I can't unravel them."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Harry pulls his eyes away from the throne and looks up at the man beside him.

The stranger's eyes bore into Harry. "You are a child of fate who has broken free of his chains, accidental it may have been. You existence has thrown the balance tilting from one side to the other and I am unsure of where the scale may finally lie." The man smiles slightly.

Harry eyes turn back to the throne, for it seems that he can't help but be drawn toward it.

"But it seems fate isn't quite so willing to let you go," the stranger muses as he notes where Harry's focus lies. "Even now, it tries to wrap itself around you. And if it gets attached again, it will be unlikely to ever let you go."

Harry hums quietly to himself, still filled with a feeling of calmness, of serenity. "You never did say where exactly this is, or even how I got here…Who are you?"

"I, Harry Potter, am Brynden Rivers," the now identified Brynden answers. "As for where we are, think of this as a dream of sorts."

"A dream," Harry repeats slowly, with a frown. He ignores the fact that he never told the man his name is Harry, as his eyes glance over at the albino. "You feel like the magic in the tree."

"Unsurprising," Brynden replies. "It is through the weirwood tree that I am communicating with you now."

Harry takes a few steps closer toward the throne, barely even conscious of his actions. The sound of a beating drum begins to grow between his ears.

"Your serpent, it is injured, yes?"

Harry glances back. "She lost her eyes, if that's what you mean."

Brynden nods to the Gryffindor. "It is, and I will heal them." He gives a frown. "However, the orbs will be stripped of the magic in the creature's deadly gaze. A beast with a power such as that could cause countless deaths, and it would be ineffective against the true enemy."

"True enemy?" Harry pauses in thought. There is one thing that he thinks the basilisk's stare would do little against. After all, what's already dead may never die. "The ice demon, and the undead you mean."

"I do." Brynden gives Harry an apologetic look. "I'm afraid that I must take something from you as well."

Harry moves a few feet closer to the throne, and he now stands at the bottom of the stairs leading up to it. "Why?" He is still unnaturally calm, but the closer he gets to the throne the louder the drums seem to become.

"You have thrown fate out of its destined course," the dragon bearing man tells him.

Harry climbs the steps and stands before the throne.

"And I need your help to set it right again," Brynden says with as eager look in his eyes, as he watches Harry run his hands along the swords that make up the chair.

The noise is deafening in Harry's ears now. With an anticipation that he can't quite make sense of, he slowly turns himself around and carefully sits down.

The beat of the drums stop, leaving nothing but silence and the sound of Harry's breathing.

He lies back and closes his eyes, enjoying the sense of completion he gets from sitting on the throne. It almost feels as if it is meant for him. It almost feels…right.

Thunder booms in the sky.

Ice creeps across the floor and the pits light up with fire.

Lightning falls from the sky and turns the world white.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, yuns probably have already figured out what direction I finally decided on taking this story. The reason is because I feel that the plot I have planned out is better overall than the other, but I would like to do the other one after I finish this one. And while there will be some stuff already used, there will definitely be some very original twists to this story as well. Hope you all liked the chapter.**

**P.S. No, it is not his magic that Brynden is taking, so don't worry about that. It's very little that he is actually taking.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except a little of the plot**

**There were some points made about the last two chapters, the two biggest of which is why the White Walker left Harry alone and why normal weapons could hurt the basilisk. **

**To address the basilisk, I know its skin is armored, but that shouldn't make it impenetrable or anything. Same for the dragon's in Game of Thrones. If I'm mistaken, then ****could someone send me a link or something that says the basilisk from Harry Potter is immune to normal weapons.**

**As to the White Walker. Well, if I told you why it left Harry alive that would reveal a very big plot point later in the story. So for now I'm going to keep that to myself.  
**

* * *

"What do you think made it," Wendor Waters asks for the third time in half an hour.

Wendor is a young man, almost still a boy really. The son of a minor lord and a kitchen wench, Wendor joined the Night's Watch in the hope of making a name for himself, or so he claims. He has red hair, red freckles, pale skin, and a set of teeth that stick much too far out of his mouth.

Benjen Stark, the First Ranger of the Night's Watch, can't help the sigh that leaves his lips. "That's what we are hoping to find out."

Benjen is tall and thin, with sharp features and ice blue eyes.

They have been following a massive trail through the snow since early that morning, and none of them have a clue of what could have made it. The first thought was that the wildlings had dug it out for some reason they couldn't begin to imagine, but they decided the path was much to smooth for that. No, it appears as if the path was made by dragging something very big and very heavy through the white ground.

"I hate this forest," Ovrir, a rapist who chose taking the black over having his cock cut off, mutters. "This whole damn forest gives me the creeps."

Ovrir is short, stocky, and dark of hair. He has taken his vows to the Night's Watch only a few days past and this is his first ranging north of the Wall.

"It gives everyone the creeps, that's probably why it's called the Haunted Forest," Wendor agrees with a laugh. "Well, it gives everyone the creeps except our First Ranger here."

"You get used to it," Benjen tells the two men walking behind him. "When you spend as much time in these woods as I have, the place tends to grow on you mighty fast."

"Well I hope…," Ovrir begins, only to quiet when Benjen holds up his hand.

"There's someone up ahead," Benjen says quietly.

The three rangers of the Night's Watch slowly move forward through the trees, ensuring that they make as little noise as possible. The trail they have been following leads straight toward the direction in which Benjen spotted a person.

As they draw near, they manage to see that they've come across a small pond in the forest. A man is sitting near the water's edge.

Benjen motions the other two rangers close and all three of them duck behind one of the large oak trees.

"Is it a wilding?" Ovrir looks toward Benjen.

"Doesn't look like any wildling I've ever come across," Wendor whispers quietly.

"I agree," Benjen replies.

Now that he is closer, the First Ranger can see that it isn't a man like he first thought, but a boy no older than fourteen namedays at the most. The boy has black hair, is dressed in a black clothing, and appears to be fishing of all the things he could be doing. However, the strangest thing has to be that he wears nothing on his feet.

"Well," Ovrir pushes. "What do we do with him?"

"I know you're there," the boy's voice calls out before Benjen has a chance to answer his fellow brother of the Night's Watch. "I can see someone's foot showing, so you might as well come on out."

Ovrir shifts guiltily and pulls his left leg in closer.

Benjen catches the eyes of Wendor and Ovrir and he gives them a small nod. He then slowly walks out of their hiding spot with the other two brothers following close behind him. The First Ranger makes sure to keep his hand near his blade as he approaches the boy though. The kid may not look like a wildling, but that doesn't mean he isn't one. And even the younger wildings won't have much hesitation when it comes to ripping into the throat of a man of the Night's Watch.

"Hello there," Benjen says softly. "I am Benjen Stark." He motions to the two behind him. "This is Ovrir and Wendor Waters."

"It's nice to meet you," the boy replies, barely sparing the rangers a glance before his eyes refocus on his fishing line. "You're brothers of the Night's Watch, right? Crows?"

The young man seems almost unconcerned with their presence_._

_Foolish_, Benjen thinks. _Nothing survives in the north for long by being so careless._

"Are you a wildling," Ovrir asks curiously.

Benjen shoots the first time ranger an annoyed glance, but looks back toward the boy for his answer.

"You mean one of the free folk," the black haired kid asks. "Then no I'm not, although I've met a few groups of them on my way south." Something flickers in his eyes. "Some nicer than others."

Benjen relaxes slightly at the boy's words and worries a little bit less about this being an elaborate ambush. No wildling he has ever met would claim to be anything other than a wilding.

He takes a moment to really look at the boy. Short black hair, vivid green eyes, and dressed in something similar to a maester's robe but in black. The robe appears to be high quality, not something your average commoner could afford.

He looks highborn, although Benjen has no idea how a highborn's son would have managed to find his way so far north of the Wall. And he doesn't know of any northern lords missing a kid; perhaps he is some noble's bastard child.

"Yes, we are brothers of the Night's Watch," Benjen answers the boy's earlier question. "I've met every man who swears the Watch's oath at least once, so I know you're not a brother. And if you're not a wildling, who are you?"

The boy frowns at the stick in his hands. "You know, I thought fishing this way would actually be fun," the boy says as he lays the pole down to his side. "And I'm just Harry."

"Just Harry," Benjen repeats the boy's words. "Do you belong to a house? Who's your father?"

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but then snaps it back closed and his brow furrows as if confused. "I don't know," he replies surprised. "I should know."

"Don't be too worked up about it kid," Ovrir says gruffly. "I never knew mine either."

Benjen finds some amusement that the man charged with rape is the first to try and make the kid feel better.

"And mine's a god's damned cunt," Wendor adds in.

"You don't understand," Harry says with a shake of his head. "I knew who my father was, but now I can't seem to remember."

"That's odd," Wendor says. "Did you take a blow to the head or something?"

Benjen agrees that yes it is odd, assuming the kid isn't just lying for some reason.

"No," Harry replies. "Not that I remember at least."

"Where are you from, Harry," Benjen asks. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugs. "I came from Hogwarts. One moment I was in a chamber under the castle and the next I'm in the Land of Always Winter." He tilts his head to the side. "Honestly, I never even had a clue of where here was until I came across a few of the free folk that didn't run or try to kill me the moment they saw me."

Wendor lets out a little laugh. "Sorry kid, but I don't see wildlings running from you."

Harry frowns at the ranger. "Well, normally it isn't me they're running from."

_Maybe he isn't alone then_, Benjen notes. "What about this Hogwarts. I know of no castle with such a name, at least not in the North."

"Pretty shitty name to," Ovrir comments.

"It's…I can't seem to remember where," Harry replies with confusion and frustration. "And I think there's spells around it to hide it, or something like that."

Ovrir snorts and Wendor chuckles, but Benjen doesn't dismiss the boy's words completely no matter how likely they are to be untrue. He's been a ranger long enough to know that magic isn't quite as gone from the world as most would like to believe. The Wall itself is proof enough of that.

"I've never heard of this castle either, I'm afraid," Benjen says.

Harry brows crease and his eyes get a slight vacant look in them before they refocus. "I think it may be past the Land of Always Winter," he tells them. "Maybe, I'm not sure. I'm just trying to get south and away from here."

Benjen doubts it there's a castle so far north, as no man has ever travelled past the Land of Always Winter. "We can bring you back with us to the Wall," he tells the boy, to his fellow ranger's surprise. "From there we can see if anyone is looking for you. If not then you can be on your way."

His eyes fall on something half lying under the snow. It's a bastard sword, and a rather elaborate one at that. Upon its hilt are three rubies about the size of raven eggs and across the blade is a name in a flowing script.

_Gryffindor_, Benjen reads. With a sword like that, he decides this boy is almost surely highborn. _Or a really good thief._

"Thank you," Harry says with a smile. "But all my friends were at Hogwarts, and if you've never heard of it then I doubt you'll find anyone looking for me." The kid looks toward the lake. "But, uh, I'm not going without my friend."

_So he isn't alone._ Benjen glances around. "Where is this friend of yours?"

"Would you like to meet her," Harry asks.

"Her," Ovrir asks quickly.

Benjen shoots the ranger a warning look. "Yes, I would," he tells Harry.

Harry stares at the water for a moment and then he hisses, actually hisses, like a snake.

The sounds coming from the boy's mouth send chills down Benjen's spine and he finds himself drawing his blade before he has time to think otherwise. Ovrir and Wendor have their steel out and lifted moments after he does.

"What the fuck was that," Ovrir shouts at the black haired boy.

Ovrir has a look on his face that says he is only a step away from gutting the kid, and a small part of Benjen would want to let him.

"Harry," Benjen says as calmly as he can. "What did you just do?"

Harry's green eyes look toward Benjen, and the ranger is made uncomfortable by the amusement he sees in them. "You said you wanted to meet her." The boy points toward the small pond.

Benjen and his brothers look in the direction Harry is directing them toward.

"Fuck," Ovrir suddenly shouts and falls backwards into the snow. "Fuck, tell me you two saw that."

"Wendor, what's wrong? Saw what" Benjen asks in concern.

The First Ranger hears some movement in the pond and he turns back from Ovrir just in time to see something that could best left in the world of nightmares rise from the water.

"Gods," Benjen whispers. "Gods."

"This is Basilisk," Harry says in pride. "Don't worry, she won't bite," he tries to assure them.

As he looks up into the beast's bright yellow eyes, Benjen can honestly say that he has never been more terrified in his life. He is so terrified that he can't even move, as if the monsters gaze was able to petrify him where he stands.

Wendor has dropped to his knees and has begun praying quietly, and judging by the smell he has also shit his pants. Ovrir on the other hand, suddenly gets his wits about him, jumps to his feet, and runs.

"Ovrir," Benjen tries to yell at his fleeing brother, although it comes out as more of a croak.

The scared man acts as if he doesn't hear himself being called. As a matter of fact, the crow doesn't even look back before he disappears through the trees.

"It's okay," Harry quietly says as he reaches up and pats the monster on the nose. "She's not going to hurt you."

"What is it," Benjen breathes out in part terror and part awe.

"A basilisk," Harry answers.

"Basilisks have legs," Wendor mutters from where he is now gazing fearfully up at the serpent. "But I know what it is."

"I'm pretty sure she's a basilisk," Harry says as he continues to pet the creature.

Benjen tears his eyes away from the monster and toward Wendor. "Well, what do you think it is?"

"It's a sea dragon," Wendor says quietly. "I've heard fisherman speak of them in their tales, but I'd always thought they were just that. Tales."

"A sea dragon," Harry tests the name, with a smile on his lips. "I like the sound of that, actually."

_Gods_. Benjen tries to wrap his mind around what is happening. "Are you sure that's what it is, Wendor?"

"Positive," the quivering young man answers. "There's nothing else it could be."

"An actual dragon," Benjen says to himself more than the people around him. "I've never thought I would see one, of any kind."

"You can pet her, if you like," Harry offers.

He considers it for just a moment before he decides he's already much too close to the creature for his liking. "I'm afraid I can't let you bring a dragon, no matter what type it may be, south of the Wall."

The boy, Harry, glances at Benjen and continues to pet the beast. "Oh, you won't allow me."

There's something in the kid's voice that Benjen doesn't like.

"How would you stop me," Harry continues, seemingly genuinely curious about the answer.

The monster slides its way up out of the pond and slowly raises itself behind Harry.

He warily eyes the serpent, or dragon. "You can kill me if you want," he says. "But it will bring you nothing."

Wendor finally passes out from fear, his face going straight into the snow.

"Kill you," Harry asks in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

Benjen motions his sword up toward the monster.

"Don't mind her," Harry says with a wave of his hand. "But we will be going south, and some wall of ice isn't going to stop us."

Benjen has the feeling that the boy isn't wrong. If nothing else, Harry and his dragon could travel to the sea and go around the Wall if need be.

He makes a decision.

"I can bring you and your dragon back to Castle Black with me," he finally says. "And it will then be up to Lord Commander Mormont on what to do with you." _And I'll have more of my brothers to help me kill the beast if it comes to that_, he leaves unsaid. "Your dragon will have to remain on this side of the Wall until a decision is made."

Harry's head tilts slightly. "Can you promise Basilisk and I won't be harmed?"

"Yes," Benjen says. _No._

Benjen suddenly feels a jerk in the middle of his back and he finds himself floating in the air. He yells out in alarm, his legs kicking and arms waving as well.

"Are you sure," Harry questions with a small smile. "Because I don't like being lied to."

Dread fills Benjen as he stares at the smiling boy, whose eyes are glowing with an eerie green light. The shadows of the forest cross over the kid's face, giving him the appearance of monster…of a demon.

"What are you," the First Ranger cries from his place in the air.

"Me? Can't you tell?" Harry's smile grows larger. "I'm a wizard."

And as the ranger floats above the snow, he has very little choice but to believe him.

* * *

**Authors Note: So, showed some of what Brynden Rivers has taken from Harry. Next chapter will once again focus on Harry and show how his thoughts on the matter. Thank you for reading!  
**


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